On the Fence
by MangoPez
Summary: Four had been planning to leave Dauntless after this batch of initiates, but after meeting Tris he has changed his mind. Divergent from Four's POV, where we learn the reasons behind his wild mood swings.
1. First Jumper

**Hello! I recently finished the second book of the Divergent series (Insurgent) and red the short entitled _Free Four, _and thought that it would be really fun to write this story from Four's perspective. I know it has done before, but I hope that my take on the inner workings of Tobias bring a somewhat fresh take on the project.**

**I do like the way that this story is starting out, and I hope that you will, too. So read and review and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Characters/story/Divergents belong to Veronica Roth. Not me. k?**

**Chapter One: First Jumper**

I lean forward and balance on the balls of my feet, my hands shoved in my pockets and my mind desperately fighting against the boredom and excessive thinking that comes with it.

Today is the day that the initiates arrive. Many of them will be the Dauntless-born, returning to their faction and families, confident in a way that only those who already knew the compound and its secrets could be.

But there would also be the faction transfers, the predominantly Candor and Erudite brats who are more annoying than their other faction counterparts, Amity and their ridiculous take on peace included. These initiates were badly disadvantaged, unaccustomed to the lifestyle of the Dauntless, ignorant of the challenges that lay ahead. Of course, the train would have given them a taste of what was to come, and there was always one who didn't make it to the compound from the choosing ceremony.

I remember the relief that came with me as a transfer. Escaping from my father and his faction had been my only goal, and arriving at the compound unrecognized and not knowing anyone had been a blessing. But I am an anomaly. The transfers arriving today were in for a long, grueling month with no family and quite possibly no faction at the end of it.

I stand on the platform next to the net, biding my time until the initiates arrive by pondering their contents this year. Two years ago, I had come in first place among the transfers and Dauntless-born alike. Throughout the history of the factions, I was the only Abnegation to transfer to Dauntless, and I beat them all. Last year, first place went back to being a Dauntless-born. What would it be this year? Would the Dauntless continue the tradition with their unfair advantage, or would we have an interesting bunch?

Finally, I hear the train up above and the shouts from those jumping off. I grimace briefly when I hear a wail and know that someone didn't quite make it onto the roof top. I force the sick feeling down into my gut and try to forget it there, forgetting the extinguished 16-year-old kid and the girl I could still hear crying for them.

In my gut, I find something else that I had squished down there, something that was becoming more and more difficult to repress. In just more than a months time, I would voluntarily become factionless. I had chosen Dauntless to escape from my father. I had made a cowardly choice. The longer I stay here, the more I come to realize that I don't belong. My aptitude test two years ago made it seem as though I could belong anywhere, but that isn't true. Being Divergent just means that you can't really ever belong anywhere. Except, perhaps, among the factionless.

I hear Max call their attention, though I cannot hear anything that he is saying. There is a short period of silence, and I imagine everyone sizing each other up, not quite brave enough to be the first idiot to jump off a building. I look up through the hole in the ceiling and I cannot blame them. Even with my record breaking lack of fears, I can think of few things more terrifying than jumping off a roof with no knowledge of what lies below.

And then I see a small figure fall through the hole, landing with a slight groan on the net spread out about ten feet above the floor. I hear laughter from the figure, almost hysterical, and reach my hand out to them.

My eyes, already adjusted to the dark, widen slightly as I grab the hand of the girl dressed in Abnegation gray, pulling her off the net and catching her before she could fall face first off the platform. She looks up at me and for a moment I am caught off guard. I know this girl, though I have never actually spoken to her before. She is the daughter of one of the Abnegation leaders. Her name is Beatrice Prior.

"Thank you," she says, staring into my face. For a terrifying second, I worry that she has recognized me, too. That she has looked into my face and identified the son of the most influential government leader and she is now remembering all of the articles published by the Erudite. But no, her eyes slide over mine without a hint of recognition or scrutiny, only a faint sense of interest.

Behind me, I hear Lauren snort. "Can't believe it," she smirks at Beatrice, the faint light coming through the hole in the ceiling glinting off the metal rings in her eyebrow. "A Stiff the first to jump? Unheard of."

"There's a reason why she left them, Lauren," I say. I don't look at Lauren when I speak, refusing to look away from Beatrice. Somewhere inside I feel the slight stirrings of excitement, though I cannot discern why. I decide on the the most logical thing to ask, if I wanted to keep my cover. "What's your name?"

She hesitates, biting her lip.

I smile slightly. "Think about it," I tell her, understanding her need for a new identity. Virtually nobody here knew my real name, and I preferred it that way. "You don't get to pick again."

She looks me square in the eyes, and even though hers are a light blue I can imagine bright flames licking at the pupils and growing stronger every second. "Tris."

"Tris," Lauren repeats thoughtfully. "Make the announcement, Four."

I don't turn away from Beatrice – Tris, now. I simply look over my shoulder and shout, "First jumper – Tris!"

The crowd of Dauntless members who had come to see the first step of initiation for their future comrades cry out, pumping their fists and shoving joyfully at one another. Just then, I hear a girl screaming and watch as the next jumper falls into the net, and the cheering mixes with laughter and whooping.

I don't turn with the others on the platform to help the new arrival from the net. Instead, I place my hand on Tris's back and say, "Welcome to Dauntless."

I direct her off the platform, along with the second jumper, and tell them to stand to the left of Lauren and the crowd. Finally, all of the initiates are gathered and we can get on with the rest of the night. There wasn't much more after the train and roof jumping, just showing them the basics of the compound, and I was eager to get it done with.

Lauren and I lead the entire group a ways into the tunnels before splitting.

"This is where we divide," Lauren announces. "The Dauntless-born initiates are with me. I assume _you _don't need a tour of the place."

Lauren and more than half of the initiates disappear, and I examine the group left before me. There are nine transfers, and as I suspected, most are from Candor and Erudite. No Amity. However, Tris has thrown me for a loop, and the feeling of excitement stirs once more.

"Most of the time I work in the control room, but for the next few weeks, I am your instructor," I scan all their faces, lingering slightly longer on Tris. "My name is Four."

"Four? Like the number?" The second jumper, a dark skinned girl from Candor asks.

"Yes," I say, slightly irritated. "Is there a problem?"

"No."

"Good. We're about to go into the Pit, which you will someday learn to love. It-"

And again that Candor girl interrupts me. "The Pit? Clever name."

I step in front of her and lean forward. She is tall, and despite her outbursts I can tell that there was no attitude behind it. She is just a typical Candor girl, unable to keep her thoughts to herself.

"What's your name?" I ask, giving her my best glare.

"Christina," a squeak, uncharacteristically quiet for a Candor.

"Well, Christina," I say slowly. "If I wanted to put up with Candor smart-mouths, I would have joined their faction. The first lesson you will learn from me is to keep your mouth shut. Got it?"

The girl nods and I turn, continuing the tour without further explanation for now. Here in Dauntless, I use make use of my silent glares and condescending jibes to keep most of those around me at bay. I never wanted to become too attached to this place.

"What a jerk," I hear her mumble behind me, but this time I ignore her.

"I guess he doesn't like to be laughed at," a low voice replies, and I already recognize it to be Tris. I smile softly, thankful that nobody can see it.

I push through the doors and lead the way into the Pit. Behind me, I hear Christina murmur her newly found appreciation for the name. The Pit is large, larger than one who had never seen it could imagine existing underground. I wait for a moment, letting the transfers take in the sights. The rocky ledges that act as pathways on the upper levels. The shops that sell food, clothing, supplies and anything else one could think of. I watch as Tris's eyes narrow on the ledges, much like mine had when I first saw this place. One thing that can make a fear of heights worse is having to walk these paths with no railings with the reckless abandon that is a staple of the Dauntless persona.

I wait a bit more before I continue. "If you follow me, I'll show you the chasm."

They all trail behind me, still gawking at the Pit and everything within and above, including the glass ceiling and seemingly normal building that appears to float above the Dauntless common area. I lead them to the right side of the Pit and stop at one of the few barriers in the compound, where careless idiots meet their end all too often.

"The chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy!" I yell over the rush of the water down below. "A daredevil jump off this ledge will end your life. It has happened before and it will happen again. You've been warned."

I lead them away from the chasm, watching as Tris and Christina exchange comments on the deadly abyss. I almost chuckle, watching as two girls from such different backgrounds form a friendship. Then again, I always felt that honesty and selflessness called for more bravery than many others would think.


	2. Dauntless Leaders

**Hello! I had this chapter finished, so I decided rather than making people wait, I would go ahead and upload it as soon as possible!**

**Thank you all so much for your reviews. I really love seeing someone take the time to give me a bit of feedback about what I write. Best part about writing, definitely. Please continue to do this for me!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with Divergent. My name is not Veronica Roth.**

**Chapter Two: Dauntless Leaders**

After the warning about the chasm, I lead the group of initiates to the dining hall. This is one of the few rooms in the whole compound that is well lit and I can see the relief on their faces as they enter.

I watch as Tris, the tiny blond from Abnegation, and the smart mouthed Candor girl Christina walk over to an almost empty table on the left side of the hall and follow them. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a few of my Dauntless 'friends' staring at me, but I justify my actions by thinking that as their instructor, it would be best if I were to at least make an effort to know a bit about the transfers. I know I am lying as I sit next to Tris.

In my mind, a wide grin stretches my face. What a clever girl, choosing the name Tris. It was new, something that she chose to start out her new life here in Dauntless. It was not a name found in any of the factions. Unique. But it was also something that would keep her connected to Abnegation, since it was, in fact, a shorter version of her actual name.

Beatrice. While I am happy and relieved that she does not recognize me seeing as how that would bring her thoughts to Marcus as well, I still feel a slight pang of rejection. Our families had mingled ever since we were young, Marcus and her father having both been government officials. However, I had never really interacted with her or her brother while I was still Abnegation. After the death, or now should I say abandonment, of my mother, I refused to interact with anyone, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised that she does not recognize me.

I wonder about this girls reasons for leaving the Abnegation, knowing that it cannot be the same as mine. I could see it in the way she held herself, the way her curious eyes scanned everything before her, not with apprehension but as if she were analyzing everything. Right now, I see that she is trying to figure out the hamburger before her. The side of my mouth pulls into a grin.

I nudge her gently with my elbow. "It's beef," I tell her, and then I grab a bottle of ketchup off the table and hand it to her. "Put this on it."

The tall Candor girl, Christina, gives Tris an almost scandalized look. "You've never had a hamburger before?"

"No. Is that what it's called?"

I look at Christina, wanting to erase the look from her face that she now has aimed at Tris. "Stiffs eat plain food," I explain, drawing her attention to myself.

"Why?" She asks, in such a typical candor style. Not for the first time, I find myself wondering if Candor are just honest and uninhibited like they say, or if they really all just lack common sense and the ability to figure things out for themselves.

Next to me I feel Tris shrug. "Extravagance is considered self-indulgent and unnecessary."

"No wonder you left," Christina smirks at the blond and takes a bite of her own burger.

Tris slightly shakes her head. "Yeah, it was just because of the food."

I fight back a smile at this, thinking about how in Abnegation, despite the lack of variety and flavor, not even I minded the food while I was there. When you were born Abnegation, the food didn't bother you as much. There was always something else pressing over you that food was the least of your problems, be it the true selflessness that symbolized the faction or the nagging need to disappear. Which was it for her?

The doors open and I watch as Eric walks in, looking to all of Dauntless like a greasy ball of metal and flesh. The amount of piercings he had was a front, masking his true self from the others by over compensating. I knew this just like I knew he was cruel and unfeeling. And not Dauntless.

"Who's that?" I hear Christina whisper on the other side of Tris.

I feel slightly sick to my stomach and I set my burger down onto my plate. "His name is Eric. He's a Dauntless leader."

"Seriously?" She doesn't take her eyes off of Eric just yet. "But he's so young."

I look at her and think about how all the other factions look down on us, because we do have young leaders by everyone else's standards. Young and reckless and cruel, molded into Max's exact view of what a modern Dauntless should be.

"Age doesn't matter here," I mutter.

Just then, Eric spots me and starts toward us, and I worry that I might have made a mistake by sitting next to Tris and her friend. Eric will undoubtedly find that suspicious, that I am sitting next to the only Stiff to transfer. He drops into the seat next to me, giving me a sour look.

"Well," Eric's eyes flit to the girls behind me. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"This is Tris and Christina," I say, careful to put an even amount of inflection on both of their names, give nothing away about them to this monster. But I can't hide the color of Tris's clothing.

"Ooh, a Stiff," he says, staring at Tris. His smirk makes my blood boil and I want to grab his face and jerk it away from her direction. "We'll see how long you last."

I purse my lips to keep from saying anything. Anything including how I was a Stiff and how I kicked his sorry ass every step of the way during our initiation. How could demoralizing the transfers on their first day possibly be Dauntless?

I remain silent, waiting for Eric to continue, not wanting to take his bait.

Eric taps his fingers against the table when no remark is made, drawing my attention to his scabbed knuckles. "What have you been doing lately, Four?" he asks nonchalantly, but I am put on guard by his casual flaunting of his knuckles.

I shrug slightly. "Nothing, really." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Tris give me a look, something between disbelief and wariness. Her eyes had assessed the situation, she must be wondering about the relation between Eric and myself.

Eric doesn't notice Tris's questioning gaze. "Max tells me he keeps trying to meet with you, and you don't show up. He requested that I find out what's going on with you."

I look at him, holding back ever so slightly to keep myself neutral. I really shouldn't be antagonizing a Dauntless leader, especially not Eric. But if I can get Max off my back without having to see him myself, then Eric would gladly deliver my message. "Tell him that I am satisfied with the position I currently hold."

Eric's eyes flash darkly. "So he wants to give you a job."

"So it would seem," I say.

"And you aren't interested."

"I haven't been interested for two years."

"Well, let's hope he gets the point then," as he gets up, he slaps me on the shoulder, harder than necessary. When he is gone, I feel Tris relax at my side.

She looks at me with the anxiety still in her eyes. "Are you two...friends?"

I want to vehemently deny any sort of positive relation to that monster, but I think it would be unwise to talk so poorly about a leader, so I opt for simple facts. "We were in the same initiate class. He transferred from Erudite."

"Were you a transfer too?" She looks at me thoughtfully, and for a moment I see and image of her from when we were younger and at my mother's funeral. I see an image of Marcus and my mood immediately darkens.

"I thought I would only have trouble with the Candor asking too many questions. Now I've got Stiffs, too?" I say this harshly, perhaps too harshly. The mixture of remembering Marcus and my foolish feeling of rejection from her being unable to remember me burned in my throat.

"It must be because you're so approachable. You know, like a bed of nails." She says, staring into my eyes with no hint of emotion. Completely flat. A teasing sense of humor delivered in a cold, dry method.

I stare back at her, for the first time a thought trickling into my mind. A transfer from Abnegation, the brave first jumper, and calculating and curious, like an Erudite. What other qualities is she hiding, and are they a dangerous side effect of something else?

I just look at her, and I try to warn her as best I can in a room full of suddenly dangerous people. "Careful, Tris."

Just then, someone calls my name and I hastily get up and leave the table. Apprehension fills my being now about Tris, and I worry that I might not be able to help her.

After dinner, I don't return to the initiates to take them to their dorms. Eric had come to me near the end of my meal, stating that I was relieved for the night and he would take care of them. I tried not to worry too much about this, and instead made my way back to my apartment.

I lay in my bed, and try as I might, I couldn't stop thinking about the initiates. About _her_. She is too curious, too perceptive for her own good. But she is also smart, and that will have to be good enough for her to slip by, undetected by Eric and the rest of the leaders for the next month. She picked a difficult place to be, given her Abnegation status, and I could only hope that she didn't have any other reasons that would make it even more troublesome.

Drifting off to sleep, I imagine that she did manage to make it through all three rounds of initiation, despite her upbringing and small stature. I imagine how it might be after a month, when I was no longer her instructor and she was a member. A member like me, born Abnegation and come to Dauntless.

Then I remember how ridiculous this was, since I have known her less than a day. But already, she has shown me so many interesting parts of herself.

It was even more ridiculous, because when she became a member, I would become factionless.


	3. Initiation Starts

**Two in one day! Are proud of me?**

**I am really happy that a lot of you seem to be liking my interpretation of Four's actions! I really like Four as a character and am loving writing the story through his eyes. It is a challenging but fun experience.**

**Disclaimer: If I could own even just one character of the Divergent series, it would be Four. But alas, I don't own anything that is Divergent, that luxury goes to miss Veronica Roth.**

******Chapter Three: Initiation Starts**

I stand before the transfers, lined up with their backs to the targets. They all look tired and weary, and I wonder how much they will change by the end of initiation.

"The first thing you will learn today is how to shoot a gun." I stroll down the line, handing a gun to each of them as I pass. "The second thing is how to win a fight." I reach Tris and hand her a weapon, avoiding the thought of her fighting. I move on, "Thankfully, if you are here, you already know how to get on and off a moving train, so I don't need to teach you that."

I finish handing out guns and stand before them, crossing my arms and staring at the targets over their heads, not wanting to look into their faces as I explain to them this tired process. The three stages of initiation have changed slightly in the two years since I have been here. Back then, the first thing we did was go through our fear landscape, and I earned the title 'Four' before anyone could learn my real name.

Now, however, the first thing we taught the initiates was how to fight each other. How to kill. This wasn't right. I see Tris hold a gun and wonder what she is thinking. It looks odd, her small and fragile frame holding such a dangerous tool.

I continue with the explanation. That is, I continue until a Candor boy, Peter, interrupts me with a yawn.

"But what..." he yawns again. "What does firing a gun have to do with...bravery?"

I burn with indignation, and before he can move I have a gun pointed to his head. "Wake. Up. You are holding a loaded gun you idiot. Act like it."

I lower the gun and walk away, expecting a smart ass remark, but to my relief nothing comes. After a second to compose myself, I answer his question, not expecting him to understand. I instruct them all to watch me as I demonstrate. I fire, hitting the target in the dead center.

I watch as the transfers step up to their targets and start to fire. They are all awful. I watch the frustration and annoyance cross their faces in varying degrees.

Halfway through the lesson, a former Erudite boy next to Tris leans over and says something to her, grinning broadly. I can tell from her face that she answers without much emotion. Part of me wants to interrupt, reprimand the boy for chatting while he should be practicing, but I stop myself. I continue watching as Tris, looking more determined than ever, takes aim once more and fires, hitting the edge of the target.

Finally, shooting practice is over and I lead them to the dining hall for lunch. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Tris walks with her new friends, practically radiating with pride. By the end of practice, Tris had finally learned how to control the recoil of her gun and pierce the center of her target.

I sit on my own at lunch this time, not wanting to draw more attention to Tris like I did last night. I eat quickly and wait for the transfers to finish before calling them out of the room.

We arrive at the next room shortly. It is large and has a ring painted in the middle of the old wooden floor. This morning, in preparation for this lesson, I had hung a chalkboard on the wall with the names of the transfers on it.

I hurry into the basics of fighting, demonstrating it for them and then allowing them to practice a few times on the punching bags that are set up along one of the walls. I walked up and down the row of initiates, examining their forms and giving them tips on how to improve.

Christina is tall with long limbs. Though she is not exactly strong, she has good muscle tone and I know that with time she can become a great fighter. The large Candor boy, Al, has weight and strength on his side, but it also slows him down considerably. The boy who had spoken to Tris earlier, Will, was surprisingly very good. He perfected the forms quickly, as should be expected from a former Erudite, and had a good amount of natural muscle tone.

I stop behind Tris and study her for a moment. She is the smallest initiate, from Abnegation no less. She doesn't pause to look at me, though I can tell that I am making her uncomfortable.

"You don't have much muscle, which means you're better off using your knees and elbows." I say to her, masking my concern with an analytical tone. "You can put more power behind them."

I walk up behind her and gently place my hand on her stomach. She is so small that my hand easily stretches the hollow area in her rib cage. Next to her ear, I say quietly, "Never forget to keep tension here."

I remove my hand and move on, outwardly surveying the others progress while inwardly screaming at myself. What was I thinking? It had seemed so natural, so normal that I didn't think about what I had done until I was already doing it.

Eventually, I dismiss them all for dinner, my hand still tingling from where I had touched her.

I walk behind the group towards the dining hall, and overhear Christina and Triss talking about me.

"I'm surprised he didn't break you in half," Christina says, oblivious to how easily her loud voice travels. "He scares the hell out of me. It's that quiet voice he uses."

"Yeah. He's..." Triss starts, and she quickly peers at me. Her eyes linger a moment before turning away, back to Christina. "Definitely intimidating."

I frown. I never meant to intimidate her. I had little inclination of what I had done until I had done it, and was too focused on berating myself to notice what it had done to her, or how it might have looked to others. My involuntary gentle touch seemed more construed as a menacing threat.

The large boy, Al, turns to them and draws their conversation from me to tattoos, for which I am thankful. I didn't want to hear anymore about the negative effects my impulses were having on Tris.

I watch as they pause in the Pit, and Christina eventually drags Triss away towards one of the shops. I force myself to leave, not wanting to dampen their free time by becoming not only the scary instructor, but the creepy one as well.

I decide to skip dinner, opting instead to head straight for my apartment. I shower quickly and lay down on my bed. I worry about what will happen tomorrow, when they will have to start fighting each other, and find it hard to sleep at all.

At seven, I awake to my alarm buzzing next to my head, and I wonder exactly when I managed to get to sleep. It must not have been too long ago, because my head feels heavy and my eyes part heavily but without friction.

I dress and make my way to the training room, where the transfers will meet me in less than an hour. I look at the names on the board and realize that one person will not be able to fight today, since there are an odd number of initiates. I feel relief, taking solace in the fact that I can make sure Tris will be safe today.

When the initiates finally arrive, they take note of their names on the board. I had tried to make the matches as fair as possible, pairing the large Candor boy, Al, with one of the Erudite transfers, Will. They seem to be friendly with each other, and I can tell that Al is far too timid and gentle. At the very least, I can trust Will to be observant enough to know how to deal with the larger boy.

The match starts out on a good note, both putting up a fight and doing seemingly well, satisfying Eric, who leaned against the wall behind the other initiates. After a couple of minutes, however, the fight begins to lag and Eric grows impatient.

" Do you think this is a leisure activity?" Eric yells at the boys in the ring. "Should we break for nap-time? Fight each other!"

Al looks confused, dropping his fists to his side. "But...is it scored or something? When does the fight end?"

"It ends when one of you in unable to continue." Eric state flatly.

I sigh under my breath and speak up, "According to Dauntless rules, one of you could also concede." I say this, knowing that Eric would never allow it. I just wanted them all to understand that in a different time, the Dauntless weren't always so blood thirsty.

As predicted, Eric narrows his eyes at me. "According to the _old _rules," he spits. "In the _new_ rules, no on concedes."

"A brave man acknowledges the strength of others," I can't help but argue.

"A brave man never surrenders," Eric retorts.

We stand there for a few seconds, staring each other down. At times like this, I regret not taking the position offered to me by Max. The job that would put me as a Dauntless leader and leave Eric powerless, unable to push his ruthless ideology onto the transfers. But I didn't, and he can.

Finally, Al speaks up once more. "This is ridiculous!What's the point of beating him up? We're in the same faction!"

Will grins broadly, "Oh, you think it's going to be that easy? Go on. Try to hit me, slowpoke."

The fight continues, and Will appears to be doing much better. That is, until Al roars with all the ferocity of a bear and rushes at him, landing a thunderous punch into his jaw that immediately renders him unconscious.

"Get him up!" Eric calls, and I turn to escape the sick feeling that his greedy eyes give me, staring at the boy crumpled on the ground with an undisguised blood lust.

I face the chalkboard, circling Al's name, and hear Eric excitedly call out the next fight, Christina and Molly.

Both girls step forward. Christina is tall and quick, while Molly is slightly shorter, but stocky with a low center of gravity. I grab Will from where he leans on Al's shoulders and head off towards the medical room, not too keen on watching the fight between the two females.

The nurse is only a five minute walk, made slightly longer by having to drag Will along with me. I try to hurry, worrying about leaving the initiates alone with Eric. Even with my presence, though, I could do nothing for them while he was there.

I drop Will off with the nurse, a middle aged woman with tattoos covering every inch of skin on her arms and neck. She is nice though, an older generation of dauntless that prided themselves on true bravery as opposed to cruelty and gimmicks.

I thank her and hurry back to the training room. I worry about Tris, and how I purposely left her out of the fights today. Would Eric notice? Would he insist on using her as an example, stating that it was only fair since everyone else had to fight?

I make it back to the room and find nobody there, only bloody circles in the ring.


	4. Tris vs Peter

**Hello everyone! Here we have the fourth chapter in my version of the story, On the Fence. It might be the last update for a couple of days or so. I had finished the first four chapters by the time I posted the first one here, so this is the last chapter I actually have ready at the moment~**

**Anywho, I thought I would tell you why I named it On the Fence. I was thinking about how during Divergent, Four was planning on leaving Dauntless to become Factionless. That is, until Tris showed up and made him all confused and what not. I also thought that with the importance of the Fence that either keeps the danger outside or the people inside, it adds another layer to my title. **

**I hope everyone is enjoying it so far, and thank you guys so much for the reviews. I love how everyone is seeing my interpretation of Four's warning as a point of view they hadn't considered before, and I hope I leave you with some more intriguing insight by the time I am done. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it. Just love it. Thank you Veronica Roth~**

**Chapter Four: Tris vs. Peter**

It is morning and I am biding my time, fuming in my apartment. How is it that Eric can get away with this, hanging an initiate over the chasm? How is that acceptable? How is that Dauntless!

After voicing my disapproval to him last night at dinner, Eric had told me that he would handle the fights from now on. Glancing at the clock, I see that it is already 7:30 and I dread making my way to the training room, terrified of what I might find there. Two-on-one fights and similar scenarios fill my head, none of which I would put past that depraved lunatic.

When I returned from taking Will to the infirmary yesterday, I was shocked to find the training room empty. I panicked, immediately worried that Eric had decided to do something cruel and nasty. And of course, two hours later when I finally found some of the transfers making their way to the dining hall I found out that he had indeed done something heinous, and to the Candor girl no less.

Yes she could be a bit annoying at times, but that was no reason to nearly kill her to prove a selfish and warped point about the Dauntless. In the eyes of Eric and many of the other leaders, Dauntless don't give up. They don't surrender. They don't show weakness. Going by that logic, all of Dauntless should be unfeeling robots with no ability to comprehend any idea beyond winning.

I snort in disgust. Forcing your ideals onto others has become the defining trait for every one of the factions.

Finally, I rouse myself from my bed and make my way to the training room. When I enter, my eyes immediately make their way to the chalkboard. The aching feeling in my gut burns white hot at the bottom of my spine. I knew that since I hadn't made Tris fight yesterday that there was no way she wouldn't be fighting today. But I hadn't counted on this. If I had know, I would have scheduled her to fight yesterday, perhaps against Christina. Then both of these atrocities could have been avoided.

But now Eric was in charge, and he had decided that it was somehow fair to pin the five-foot-nothing girl from Abnegation against his cold and malicious double from Erudite. He had done this on purpose, to fulfill some sick pleasure of watching a like-minded individual utterly destroy something fragile. Something special.

There was nothing I could do. All during the first fight – Molly versus Edward – I tried desperately to find a way to stop this, knowing that there was nothing I could do.

As the first fight ended and I watched Peter step into the ring with a twisted smirk on his face, I realized that I had no idea who had won the first fight. The burning sensation had spread to my limbs. Tris stepped into the circle facing the disgusting boy, looking nervous and more fragile than ever.

I was on fire.

Watching Tris standing across from Peter, a boy nearly a foot taller than her and at least forty pounds heavier, was like watching a small house cat ready itself to fight a pit bull.

"You okay there, Stiff?" Peter's voice pulls me from my thoughts and I glare at him, unable to restrain myself. I cross my arms and try my hardest to keep myself from forcibly taking Tris's place in the ring. "You look like you're about to cry. I might go easy on you if you cry."

Just then, I see Tris's eyes flick to me, standing almost directly behind Peter in her line of sight. My eyes narrow as I notice her gaze, but I refuse to focus on her. Her bright blue eyes, melting like tempered ice. I focus on the tapping of Eric's foot, my heart hammering in my ears to the same beat.

Peter shifts into a common fighting stance, his frame bent, his hands curled into fists before his face. He bends his legs, ready to lunge at the little girl before him.

Already, I can pinpoint at least five different ways that his stance his flawed. I close my eyes and force myself to breathe through my mouth, pushing away the knowledge of how easily I could break through his sloppy defenses and utterly destroy that deceptive face of his. That face that proclaims innocence and kindness while his mind works in every other direction.

"Come on, Stiff. Just one little tear. Maybe some begging."

I stiffen as the ice in Tris's eyes harden again, watching as she swung her leg toward him. In her anger she is unable to land her kick. Peter grabs her foot, yanking her forward until she loses balance and falls backwards onto the floor with a loud grunt.

I close my eyes again, already feeling sick with anger. My finger nails dig into my arms and I taste the blood in my mouth from biting the side of my cheek. I open my eyes and see that Tris is on her feet once more.

"Stop playing with her," Eric says, his feet still tapping in sync with my heart, both having sped considerably. "I don't have all day."

I take a moment to glare at Eric, furious at how easily he says that. Not only that he thinks so poorly of Tris, but that he can so easily order for her destruction. So easily watch as a boy with such an unfair advantage beats on a girl who couldn't possibly defend herself after only a single day of instruction.

In that moment, I miss the punch that Peter lands on Tris's jaw, but I hear it. The loud crack of knuckle connecting with bone and the worried gasps of the onlooking initiates. I look back in time to see Tris taking a step back and Peter closing the distance in an instant, his long leg darting out and connecting with her stomach and sending her to the ground once more.

I feel the bile rising in my throat and suppress a growl when he grabs her by the hair, thrusting his fist into her nose. I imagine that I hear the indistinct crackling that I know first hand comes with a broken nose. I glance over at Eric, trying to distract myself from this hellish moment by remembering when we were initiates and I won in a fight against him. All the rings on his face could never distract my eyes from the small, crooked bump on the bridge of his nose.

The distraction didn't work. Before my eyes, all I can see is red. A small red puddle on the floor, growing larger with each drip from the red face of Tris. Peter easily shoves her to the ground, but she stands once more. Her eyes settle on me a moment and I mouth two words to her: _stay down._ Then I notice the muddiness in her eyes and realize that she is too far gone to see me.

She stands, wobbling noticeably on her feet. Peter punches her side, but this time she doesn't fall. She throws a weak punch at his abdomen, to which Peter barely responds. Pulling back his hand as if to slap her, his palm collides with her right ear, his eyes glittering with glee.

Without permission, my body moves on its own. I know the same moment that I feel my legs begin to move that there is only one place that they could be taking me. The middle of the room and into the ring, where I would end this ridiculous display of brutality in less than three minutes, disposing of the Peter and then turning on Eric to rid the Dauntless of monstrous leaders as well.

With all the strength in my body, I turn away from Peter and Tris, shoving the door hard and storming out into the hallway. Eric didn't say anything, didn't even look at me as I left. He had been too enthralled by the bloody and devilish sight before him.

I lean against the wall to the right of the door, collapsing to the floor with my head in my hands. Tris wouldn't last much longer, not the way that Peter was going at her. I lean the back of my head against the cool stone wall and wait for the fight to end. I pray that Tris will just fall and have the sense to stay down, give up the fight before she is injured too badly.

My eyes snap open the next second, the feeling of ice coursing through my veins at the sound that meets my ears. A high, rattling scream that resounded inside of the training room.

I was on my feet in less than a second, slamming back through the doors just in time to watch Peter land what must be a second kick into the ribs of Tris, laying on the floor in the center of the ring.

"Enough!" I say, keeping my eyes on Tris as I walk to the center of the room. I am careful to keep my eyes off of Peter as I bend down and scoop the broken girl into my arms. Careful to keep my eyes off of Eric as I walk past him to the door, cradling the girl against my chest. But not careful enough to keep my eyes from drifting to the rest of the initiates, none of whom had been brave enough to step in sooner. I saw them cringe away from my glare, shame and indignation littering their faces.

I sweep out into the hall, the girl in my arms quiet and still. The blood from her nose still flowed, covering my shirt by the time I had reached the infirmary merely a five minute walk away, where I had brought Will the day before.

When she saw me, the nurse on duty quickly ushered me to an empty bed, where I gingerly lay Tris, who was still unconscious. After a quick check and a few medicated salves and bandages, she announced that Tris would be fine after some rest.

Unconvinced, I remain at the side of her bed for the next couple hours. She doesn't wake, but her breathing becomes less labored over time. I sit with her, all the time only thinking about how it was my fault.

No matter what I did, Tris would always be in trouble. If I left her alone and allowed things to go along naturally, Peter and his gang would surely continue their masochistic game, singling her out due to the fact that she was Abnegation. I was foolish to think that Peter would allow her to go down in the fight and not continue to pulverize her until he was sure she was out.

However, if I were to continue showing concern for her, coming to her rescue and helping her out, that would only serve to draw more attention to her. Unneeded attention from Eric, who was desperate to discredit and destroy me.

After two hours of watching over the sleeping girl and quietly mulling over my choices, I heard the loud and unmistakable voice of the Candor girl, Christina, floating down the hall. The fights must be finished for the day, and they are coming to check on Tris.

With one last look at the sleeping girl, I gently cup her bruised and swollen face in my right hand and force myself to turn away, gliding out a door that would put me in a different hallway than the one that Tris's friends were currently approaching in.

I wander aimlessly through the halls for a while, going over ways to keep Tris safe while she was going through initiation. It just didn't seem possible.

Sighing, I notice that I have found my way to the chasm. Angrily, I kick a stray rock into the rushing waters below, leaning forward and resting my elbows on the railing.

There was really only one way to keep Tris safe. No matter what I decide, Peter and his cronies would always have it out for her. She would always stand out to Eric, already having too many similarities to myself for him to look past. If he can't hassle me, he will take it out on her instead.

Staring down into the raging waters below, I decide that I would just have to embrace the thought of taking care of her. Until I could determine if there was something different about her, and if she would be able to continue here at the Dauntless compound, as small and fragile as she was.

Shaking my head to clear these thoughts as I moved away from the chasm and towards my apartment, I thought to myself that it would be okay even if Tris didn't make it through initiation. I could be there for her after she becomes factionless, still willing to protect her.


	5. The Fence

**Hello again! I am happy to give you guys another chapter. I am loving all the story reviews and favorites and follows, so if you keep them coming, I will keep these chapters coming. They seriously make my day, you have no idea.**

**Disclaimer: Why are all the good characters taken by Veronica Roth and her series Divergent?**

**Chapter Five: The Fence**

It's dinner time and I obligingly make my way to the cafeteria. Once inside, my eyes instinctively scan the corner of the room where I know Tris sits with her friends. Christina, Will and Al sit together, and even though I knew Tris wouldn't be there I still feel a bit anxious.

Looking away from her smiling friends, I scowl to myself to sit down at an empty table. Back in Abnegation, people had made their own food, and families sat together in their own homes to eat. Children weren't allowed to speak, but that was fine by me. I never had anything to say to Marcus anyways.

I wonder if it is like this in other factions: loud and crowded and always together. Abnegation prized itself on being selfless and unified, but I never truly felt integrated into a society until I came here. The living quarters were small, but the rest of the compound was spacious and wide. Free.

I grabbed myself a roll and lightly buttered it. Before I could take a bite, however, I was joined by a sneering face covered in metal rings and grease.

"Four," Eric greeted me. I nodded at him but kept my mouth shut. He only grinned wider and continued. "Looks like we know who the factionless will be. I mean, I had a hunch from the first time I saw all of them but now..." Eric trailed off, his eyes looking hungry for something other than the food on his plate.

"How did the rest of the fights go?" I asked slowly, not wanting my thoughts to dwell for long on the memory of the bloody girl in my arms.

Eric scoffed, not minding the direction in which I had steered this conversation. "That big oaf, Al, took two punches and was out cold. For such a big guy, he is awfully pitiful." He shook his head. "Such a disappointing fight. I have no idea why that idiot would have chosen Dauntless just to give us such a cowardly performance. But then, Peter's fight had more than made up for it."

The bread in my mouth turned to sand and I had to choke it down with a gulp of water. It sat like a lead lined anchor in my stomach, pinning me to the chair while the rest of my being called out for his blood. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how upset I was.

"Peter is a good fighter," I said, hating the words as I spoke them, knowing that as much as I hated the boy he was fairly talented for being a transfer from Candor.

Eric laughed boisterously, his eyes lighting up maliciously. "Yes, he is. I wouldn't be surprised if he were to come out on top at the end of initiation."

I cringed at the thought. Peter would undoubtedly go for a government position, and the last thing Dauntless needed was another leader like Eric. "Don't forget, this is the only time in initiation that physical strength counts. He might not do so well in the other two portions."

At this Eric stood, his face not the angry scowl I had been anticipating, but a mixture of pride and cunning. "I have a feeling that he will do just fine. His strength isn't only physical."

As Eric walked away, I knew that he was right. Peter was a manipulative boy, mentally prepared for many scenarios. As sick and demented as he was, he was more than able to become Dauntless. Just another reason to reinforce my growing suspicions that I didn't conform to the modern definition of this faction.

Dropping my food down on the plate, I quickly retreat from the dining hall and return to my apartment. My anger doesn't dissipate no matter how long I lay on my bed and focus on my breathing. It follows me when I finally descend into sleep and eats away at my dreams. In my dream, I watch as Eric plummets into the chasm under Christina's revenge and Peter fall into a bloody heap before Tris.

In my dream, I watch these men crumble before their tormented peers from the position of a Dauntless leader.

I wake at exactly 7:05, a vicious feeling of triumph still emanating from my dream. I shake it off, a slight sense of guilt beginning to stem from the thought of wishing death upon someone. A remnant of my Abnegation youth.

I quickly shower and dress. At 7:35, I find myself already halfway to the infirmary before I realize what it is that I am doing. I am going to retrieve Tris, who had not heard the announcement Eric made yesterday about going to the fence. If I had learned anything about that girl in the short time that I have known her, I knew that she was too stubborn to allow someone like Peter to hinder her during initiation.

Of course, one of her friends might have told her when they visited her yesterday, but I choose to ignore that logic and walk through the east door of the infirmary. The nurse is nowhere in sight. When I get to the bed where I had deposited Tris yesterday, I find it empty.

"She must have left last night while I was out," the nurse said, having appeared in the doorway that led to her office. She looked only slightly disapproving.

Sighing, I thanked her and headed to the train tracks. I stood next to the track, so close that I could anticipate the imaginary sensation of the train against my face. Soon, the initiates stood behind me. All but two.

I keep my eyes focused on the tracks, hearing the horn blare in the distance. I realize when I hear Will call to someone that I had been grinding my teeth without noticing.

"What took you so long?" His words were almost lost to the blasting of the horn, but my ears were straining in his direction, waiting to hear her response. To know she was there without having to turn and blatantly place my attention on her.

"Stumpy legs over here turned into an old lady overnight," I heard Christina pronounce loudly in her typical Candor fashion.

I heard Tris mumble a reply, but the train had arrived and I moved out of the way, allowing some of the initiates to pile in first before lithely pulling myself into the car. I watch as Tris jogs next to the car, pain shooting through me at sight of her struggle. But I won't help her. Not in front of Peter and the other initiates. Not when it would do nothing but hurt her pride and cause her trouble.

Too late, I notice Al at the edge of the train car, reaching out and pulling Tris into the car with obvious ease. She winces in pain, but quickly smiles at Al. And blushes. Her face turns a deep red and I turn away, willing the heaviness in the pit of my stomach away.

"Feeling okay there?" I hear Peter say, muffled as if through a glass door. "Or are you a little..._Stiff?"_ He and his cronies start cackling loudly but I barely hear them. I concentrate on blocking everything out, standing and making my way to the door. I keep my left hand clenched tightly around the handle.

I grow impatient, realizing that it is impossible to block out the loud voice of Christina when she responds to Peter's taunt.

"Am I going to have to listen to your bickering all the way to the fence?" I ask crisply. Thankfully, they all shut up. I grab the other side of the door and close my eyes, reveling in the cool wind that blows past me. I lean out of the car a bit and let the air cool my burning resentment of Al. My ridiculous feelings of jealousy.

I understand very well why I feel resentment towards Al. He had helped Tris in front of her enemies, pushed her weaknesses right up under their noses without even stopping to think about what he might be doing. But jealousy? Now I was just being stupid.

Finally, the train begins to slow and I open my eyes to the bright scene of the amity fields before me. That, and the tall, menacing shape of the fence before me. I am not quite sure if it is a contradiction for me to only be able to describe this fence, this instrument that inhibits freedom and expansion and everything that I felt while I was in the Dauntless compound as well...daunting. I wasn't sure if it was a contradiction, or the fact that I was Dauntless that allowed me to fully understand what intimidation was.

"Follow me," I say to the initiates behind me and leap from the train. I walk towards the gate, where a handful of Dauntless guards stand on alert, watching us approach.

Once we are about twenty feet from the gate, I turn on my heel to address the group behind me. "If you don't rank in the top five at the end of initiation, you will probably end up here. Once you are a fence guard, there is some potential for advancement, but not much. You may be able to go on patrols beyond Amity's farms, but-"

"Patrols for what purpose?" Will interrupts me. I can't bring myself to become angry, being far too used to this type of thing from the initiates by now. However, I do recognize the Erudite curiosity that propelled his question and realize that it is part of my job to strip them of their former faction's teachings. So I shrug my shoulder and give him a vague answer.

"I suppose you'll discover that if you find yourself among them." I continue along about how guarding the fence isn't as bad as it might seem. I don't even believe myself.

"What rank were you?" I turn to see Peter, looking smug. He is sure of himself, sure of his assessment of me. He believes that since I am here with them, I came in last. I contemplate for a moment lying, telling them all that I came in lower so that I don't have to explain why I did choose the life that I did. But I don't.

"I was first."

"And you chose _this?_" Peter asked, his voice filled with unmasked incredulity. "Why didn't you get a government job?"

"I didn't want one," I answered, half honestly. I didn't want to deal with the other corrupt leaders of my faction. I didn't want to be responsible for a people I didn't wholly feel part of. I wanted to make sure I knew every inch of the compound and every code and protocol.

I make it clear that the discussion is over by turning and leading the group the rest of the way to the gate. We watch as the guards struggle slightly to open the doors for an Amity truck.

"Four!" I turn to the direction from which my name had been called, seeing a female Dauntless guard staring at me, smiling.

"Dylan," I smile back, walking over to her. She had been in my initiation class, though being a Dautless-born, we hadn't mingled much. She was average height for a girl, about five and a half feet, with short brown hair. She had barely made it above the cutting point after round three. "How are you?"

"Great!" Dylan was a bubbly girl. I often found myself wondering what her test results had really been, and if she had stayed in Dauntless out of loyalty rather than choosing what would have been right for her.

I glance over at the closing gate, the lock clicking from the other side. Dylan's eyes followed mine and she frowned apologetically. She knew as well as I did that they were locking us in with this fence, and neither of us knew why.

Changing the subject, she peered over my shoulder at the rest of the initiates, who were examining the fence or, in the case of Christina and Will, talking to one of the guards. "How are they doing?"

I grinned a bit, thinking about them as a whole. "Curious, rude and stubborn." I realize that by thinking of them as a whole, I mostly just described Tris. Glancing around, my eyes automatically sought her out, only to find her talking to one of the Amity boys that had come through the fence.

"Might want to go reel that one in before anyone else sees," I looked back at Dylan. She had followed my eyes to Tris and was smiling sadly. I could see this girl in another world, free of factions and initiations. She seemed so happy now, but to me it was plain to see that she longed for that other life.

Saying a quick goodbye, I turned back towards Tris just as the Amity boy was climbing into the back of the truck. The vehicle pulls away and I step forward.

"I am worried that you have a knack for making unwise decisions," I say to her as I approach.

She crosses her arms and gives me her best stubborn expression, "It was a two-minute conversation."

"I don't think a smaller time frame makes it any less unwise," I say, studying the bruises on her face. I reach out without thinking, gingerly touching the bruise next to her eye. She flinches away from my touch, but I don't retract my hand. I can't help but sigh. "You know, if you could just learn to attack first, you might do better."

"Attack first?" Tris cocks her head slightly to the side. "How will that help?"

I shrug, dropping my hand to my side. "You're fast. If you can get a few good hits in before they know what's going on, you could win."

She gives me a dark look before quietly responding. "I'm surprised you know that, since you left halfway through my one and only fight."

I bite back a heated remark, angry at her brash comment even though I shouldn't be. She was right, I had left her during the fight, but I was also the one that had saved her at the end. Instead, my eyes dart away of their own accord as I answer, "It wasn't something I wanted to watch."

She gives me a wary look and I hastily clear my throat. "Looks like the next train is here. Time to go, Tris."

I gather the rest of the initiates and we all make it safely onto the train. I return to leaning my head out of the threshold, once again fighting and failing to expel the sight of Tris's bleeding face from my mind.


	6. Midnight Mission

**Hello again! **Edited as promised! Sorry, I seem to have really messed up my sleep schedule. Next chapter coming soon~**

**Getting to the Ferris wheel part. Yayy!**

**Remember, read&review. It makes me so happy when you do 3**

**Disclaimer: Veronica Roth knows how to make _Divergent _irresistible. I can't help but borrow her story to feed my addiction. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Six: Midnight Mission**

It is just past midnight and I hurry down the hallway towards the initiate dormitories, where I am to meet with Eric. For once, I actually feel a little excited for an initiation activity.

Capture the flag is an old Dauntless tradition, stemming back to before the time of Eric and Max and the new, harsher faction life. It teaches the basics of working in a team: tactics, coordination and the ability to perform under pressure. In order to be brave, you couldn't be afraid to act.

I made it to the door of the Dauntless-born initiates, where a few members were already waiting. Barely a moment later, Eric turned the corner and sauntered over to meet us. Without speaking to one another, we burst into the dorm, Eric brandishing his flashlight and yelling at the top of his lungs. I fought the grin that pulled at the sides of my mouth as I watched the still forms jolt awake, one startled boy falling off his bunk. Luckily it was a bottom bed.

Eric stopped mid yell, looking towards Uriah, who had just jumped from beneath his covers fully dressed without even a slight look of grogginess about him. He looked anxious and antsy and all together unsurprised. I mentally made a note to reprimand Zeke for having a big mouth.

"Ugh!" Eric lowered his flashlight and flicked on the lights to the dorm. Looking around, I saw that Lynn and Marlene were both also dressed, brandishing looks of annoyed impatience and carefree enthusiasm respectively. "Dauntless-born and their stupid siblings," I watched as Eric mumbled to himself, stalking out of the room. Just outside of the room, he turned to yell at them a quick warning.

"Five minutes for the rest of you to get dressed and meet us at the tracks. Move it!" And he disappeared from sight.

I followed him out the door, the members filing out behind me. He seemed only slightly put off by Uriah's knowledge of the night's events. Personally, I thought Uriah's joy was refreshing. He was a good kid, much like his brother.

Eric paused outside of the transfer's dorm. There was a glint in his eye that I had seldom seen before. It wasn't anything dark or nasty or evil. It was childish joy, which he was receiving from the silly act of scaring his charges from their sleep and dragging them all out of the compound for a game. It was the first time since he and I were both initiates that I thought of him as being a normal person.

"Alright," Eric peered over the group. "Nobody in here should know what it going on. On three, everyone rush in and shine your flashlights on them all. Make it as intimidating as possible." He grinned and counted to three, and we rushed the room as one.

"Everybody up!"

I watched the confusion as half a dozen rays of light spun wildly around the room, landing on the startled faces of the unsuspecting occupants. Almost an instant replay, until my eyes land on her.

I think back to hours before, when a still bruised and sore Tris had to fight against the timid Myra. It had been an easy win for her, even in her battered condition. And yet, after all her friends had congratulated her, she had only been able to apologize to Edward, Myra's boyfriend, and look on as he led her from the training room with her face contorted in disgust directed at herself.

Now, I see her sitting up straight in her bed, starting back at me. Not an ounce of fear or disorientation in here eyes, but they were overflowing with curiosity. It isn't until Eric speaks once more that I can pull away from her gaze.

"Did you go deaf, Stiff?"

She snaps her head in his direction and scrambles out of bed, standing next to Christina who slept on the bed above her. I am thankful that Tris sleeps in a t-shirt and pajama pants. It was a stark contrast with what her friend was wearing.

"You have five minutes to get dressed and meet us by the tracks," Eric surveys the initiates now, the childish look in his eyes long gone, replaced by his practiced look of stern indifference. "We're going on another field trip."

He turns on his heel and I cast one last look in Tris's direction, but she is already hidden behind the beds, no doubt retrieving her clothes. I sweep out the door behind Eric and follow him and the others up the path and outside, towards the tracks. Uriah, Lynn and Marlene are already there waiting. It isn't long before the rest of the Dauntless-born initiates arrive, shortly followed by the transfers.

Piled about five feet from the tracks are a few dozen paintball guns.

"Everyone grab a gun!" Eric shouts behind me, almost directly in my ear, and I wince. I watch as the initiates scramble towards the gun pile, grabbing whatever their hand manages to land on and snatching up a box or two of paint balls.

Eric glanced at me. "Time estimate?"

"Any minute now," I respond as I check my watch. "How long is it going to take you to memorize the train schedule?"

"Why should I, when I have you to remind me of it?" Eric shoves my shoulder slightly, grinning broadly as though it were a joke. But I know that it wasn't. It was him reminding me of my place. Insinuating that my position here was merely to aid him in trivial matters such as the exact time of the train's arrival.

I bite back a growl.

In the distance, I see the lights from the train grow larger and focus on my breathing in order to calm myself. As soon as the train slows, I climb into the open car and turn. Jogging next to the train car is Tris. Without thinking I extend my arm and grab hold of hers, pulling her into the car with ease.

She lets go without looking at me, sitting in the corner opposite from where I stand. It isn't long before everyone is in the train car and I can give directions.

"We'll be dividing into two teams to play capture the flag." I explain in a flat tone. "Each team will have an even mix of members, Dauntless-born initiates, and transfers. One team will get off first and find a place to hide their flag. Then the second team will get off and do the same." The train sways as it rounds a bend and I reach out automatically to steady myself using the siding of the open door behind me. "This is a Dauntless tradition, so I suggest you take this seriously."

"What do we get if we win?" I shoot a dark glance in the direction of the shout, though I am not quite sure who had asked it.

"Sounds like the kind of question someone not from Dauntless would ask. You get to win, of course."

Eric steps up, tired of being in the shadows too long. "Four and I will be your team captains. Let's divide up transfers first, shall we?" He cocks a ring-filled eyebrow at me.

"You go first," I offer. It doesn't matter which one of us chooses first, I know exactly how the teams are going to be split.

As expected, his first choice is the strong and talented Edward. I smile and lean against the door frame. My eyes scan the transfers before me as a pretense, though I already know my first choice.

"I want the Stiff."

My announcement is met with a mixture of weak laughter. I watch as Tris's face floods with blush as her eyes flit at the people surrounding her, wondering if they were laughing because she had missed the joke behind my words.

"Got something to prove?" Eric smirked at me, but his tone sounded wary. "Or are you just picking the weak ones so that if you lose, you'll have someone to blame it on."

I shrug, not wanting to explain to him the obvious benefit to having an agile and intelligent team compared to one full of brawny muscle heads. "Something like that."

I frown slightly when I see Tris's reaction to my words. He face was contorted into a scowl, and I realize that she had taken me on my statement just now. But then, she looked up as Eric made his next choice – Peter – and her eyes were filled with determination. Even if she thought I was playing some sick game, she wouldn't let that bring her down. I feel the left side of my mouth twitch slightly.

"Christina." My second choice. I see a look of confusion cross Tris's face as she glances at Christina. Maybe now should we understand that my choice had not been malicious.

By the end of choosing transfers, I had Tris, Christina, Will and Drew. I was lucky enough to snag Uriah and Marlene among the Dauntless-born. My team was as perfect as it could be.

When we are done, Eric aims a smirk at me. "You're team can get off second."

"Don't do me any favors," I shoot back at him. I want to get my team off first, to get their minds working in the environment of tactical thinking. So I manipulate Eric into doing what I want. "You know I don't need them to win." I smile a little, recalling memories of when he and I had been doing this as initiates. Memories that involved me on the winning team and him on the losing. I could see that he remembered as well as his face contorted into a frown.

"No, I know that you'll lose no matter when you get off," Eric bites into one of the rings jammed into his lower lip, mulling over his next words. "Take your scrawny team and get off first, then."

I motion for my team to get ready, and they all step to the edge of the car behind me. As the train dips, I jump from the train. I run a few steps and turn, watching as my team follows suit, proud that none of them fall and hardly any of them stumble.

A gentle hand on my shoulder calls my attention to Marlene, the cheery Dauntless-born girl who never stopped smiling. "When your team won, where did you put the flag?"

I look at her evenly. "Telling you wouldn't really be in the spirit of the exercise, Marlene."

"Come on, Four," She begs playfully, giving me one of her trademarked flirtatious grins. I move away from her touch and head out away from the tracks.

"Navy Pier," I hear Uriah exclaim behind me. He is standing next to Marlene now, staring down at her. His skin is dark and he has grown to look much like his older brother, only taller and better looking.. They also seem to share that same big mouth. "My brother was on the winning team. They kept the flag at the carousel."

"Let's go there then," Will speaks up, walking towards Uriah and Marlene.

Nobody else opens their mouth, and soon I am trailing behind the initiates as they march towards the pier. I see the marsh and wonder how that could have ever been a large body of water when it was so murky and dead now.

Just in front of me, I hear Christina turn to Will and ask, "We're close to Erudite headquarters, right?"

"Yeah, it's south of here." I see him glance in that direction, a subtle look of longing on his face. It is gone in less than a second, and I pretend not to have seen it. Everyone has to grieve every now and then. I can't bring myself to hold his private feelings against him.

We cross a bridge that extends over the muddy plane, into a part of the city that was literally a ghost town. The buildings were crumbling and forgotten, unlike those in the inhabited parts of the city where they were at least kept up with. Broken glass glittered along the streets as we walked, glimmering faintly in the moonlight.

It is dark and hard to walk without fear of stepping on the glass or any other untold dangerous object, but when a beam of light flares in the corner of my vision I cringe mentally. I keep my mouth shut, knowing that even though I am the team leader, this is their challenge to win or lose.

"Scared of the dark, Mar?" Uriah taunts her lightly, but I can hear the subtle tone in his voice that is softly scolding her.

"If you want to step on broken glass, Uriah, be my guest," Marlene retorts haughtily, but she immediately flicks off the torch.

The Dauntless ideals are often quite cumbersome, prizing self-sufficiency over ease. Dauntless initiates have to learn how to get by without help by anyone or anything. They have to learn to act under any circumstance and make decisions on the spot. They were lucky they had Uriah here. He was a born leader. A true Dauntless member.

We reach the pier unscathed. It was a small strip of land that extended into the marsh, free of the steel and glass buildings. Rising from the land was something much more daunting than the crumbling structures – the Ferris wheel.

"Think about it," Will shook his head, letting out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. "People used to ride that thing. For _fun_."

"They must have been Dauntless." Tris says in awe, staring at the Ferris wheel with wide eyes.

"Yeah, but a lame version of Dauntless." Christina laughs. "A Dauntless Ferris wheel wouldn't have cars. You would just hang on tight with your hands, and good luck to you."

I shudder at the thought. Somehow, Christina had just made the overgrown wheel seem somewhat less appalling in comparison to her imagination.

We make our way towards the carousel, the streets here cleaner and less dangerous than the ones before the bridge. When we reached our destination, I stared at the ceramic horses. They were just as I remembered them, scratched and weathered with chips and broken tails. Reaching into my pocket, I remove the flag.

"In ten minutes, the other team will pick their location," I hold the flag out slightly from my body, towards the initiates. "I suggest you take this time to formulate a strategy. We may not be Erudite, but mental preparedness is one aspect of your Dauntless training. Arguably, it is the most important aspect."

I wait for one of them to move. Finally, Will steps forward to take the flag. I grin and let him claim it.


	7. Capture the Flag

**It is easy to post, since virtually the whole story is already written out for me and all I have to do is work it from another perspective. This is somewhat of an easy yet challenging exercise, since I still have to stay true to the story while adding my own touch to it without making Four OOC. **

**Well, if you like it, please continue to review. I am so happy to get feedback about my writing!**

**Disclaimer: Veronica Roth is only two and half years older than me and already has two published books, Divergent and Insurgent. I am only borrowing her ideas until I can finally get off my lazy ass to write something of my own. She is an inspiration.**

**Chapter Seven: Capture the Flag  
**

As soon as the flag leaves my hand, Will turns around to address his team. "Some people should stay here and guard, and some people should go out and scout the other team's location."

"Yeah? You think?" Marlene steps forward, her flirtatious smile more devilish than sweet as she deftly pulls the flag from his fingers. "Who put you in charge, transfer?"

"No one," Will doesn't move to reclaim the flag, but his self-imposed air of leadership does not falter. "But someone's got to do it."

"Maybe we should develop a more defensive strategy," Christina steps forward, standing to the left of Will as she speaks. "Wait for them to come to us, then take them out."

Uriah scoffs loudly. "That's the sissy way out. I vote we go all out. Hide the flag well enough that they can't find it."

I watch silently as the team erupts into debate, defending the presented strategies or calling out new ones. Christina drops hers readily enough and backs Will, while many of the Dauntless-born call for an all out attack. I slip to the side and rest on the carousel, leaning against one of the marred plastic horses. Rubbing the back of my neck, I go over the ideas in my head.

Will was born an Erudite. He was practical. Smart. He called for the most logical course of action, but not one that would give his team an advantage. It was a safe plan, tried and true, but with such a divide in forces, it was likely that either offense or defense would be far too weak.

Uriah's plan was all brute strategy, and not very smart. The only way it would ever work was by catching the other team off guard and getting to their flag before they realized what was going on. If this were a real battle plan, Uriah would be sending all of his subordinates into the fire fight, praying that at least one would make it to the objective alive.

Even so, either of their plans could potentially work. If they could just decide on one. I tilt my head back and stare up at the starless sky, breathing in the cool, fresh air. They continued to bicker and vie for the role of leader while their opposing team may have already chosen a strategy and started out against them. Perhaps choosing a team based on intelligence and cunning could have its own disadvantages, if those clever individuals also had much to prove but nothing to back themselves up with against the other.

Their squabble continues and I seem to be the only one aware of the fact that they are far too busy arguing over their own plan that they seem to have forgotten that there is, in fact, another team out there. I sigh heavily and lower my head once more, about to call the initiates to order, when I realize that the absence of Tris's voice was not just the byproduct of her being too timid to speak up.

I caught sight of her, now about twenty yards away from the carousel, heading off towards the giant Ferris wheel. I stand and glance once more towards the arguing team, then slip away unnoticed. I quickly catch up to Tris, who had yet to notice me, and stop behind her as her hand reaches for the first rung of the dangerously deteriorated ladder that extended to the top of the ancient wheel.

"Tris," I say quietly, making my presence known in an attempt not to startle her. It seems to work as she looks over her shoulder calmly.

"Yes?" She asks.

"I came to find out what you think you're doing." I state simply.

"I'm seeking higher ground. I don't _think_ I'm doing anything."

I smile lightly at this. Such a fiery and self-assured girl really grew up in Abnegation? Steeling my nerve, I glance quickly to the top of the ladder and make up my mind. "All right. I'm coming."

I am not sure what it is that compels me to follow her up the ladder. Images of my fear landscape flash through my mind before I squash them. The initiates back by the carousel are getting nowhere with their petty attempts to one-up the others, and at least Tris has some sort of plan.

I continue trying to convince myself that it is curiosity that drives me to follow this girl up a rusty old ladder to a height that made me nauseous just thinking about it when she responds.

"I'll be fine," she says, her eyes void of emotion. Guarded.

"Undoubtedly," I try to ease her suspicion about my following her. Did she think I believed her to be incapable?

She turns without response, beginning her ascent up the ladder. After she is a few feet off the ground, I start to follow her. She climbs slowly, almost painfully so in my rapidly deteriorating self-control. I concentrate on her feet as they leave the bars and my hands that replace them, ignoring everything else. It doesn't work very well, so I try a new tactic.

"So tell me...," I say, trying in vain to hide the breathlessness in my voice. "What do you think the purpose of this exercise is? The game, I mean, not the climbing."

I already feel the strengthening wind rushing past me, and fight the automatic urge to look down at the ground. I know that would be the end of my resolve.

"Learning about strategy. Teamwork maybe." Tris responds, continuing her climb with only the slightest hint that she was tired. But not scared.

"Teamwork," I repeat, almost hysterically.

"Maybe not," Tris continues, perhaps spurred by my reaction. "Teamwork doesn't seem to be a Dauntless priority."

I watch as a gust of wind pushes past Tris and she clings close to the metal bars, causing her to climb slower than before.

"It's supposed to be a priority. It used to be." I feel a slight pang of longing stab at me, drowning out the dizzying heights for just a moment. I remember the excitement of joining Dauntless two years ago. Of leaving Marcus and my old life and looking forward to my new life at the compound. A new life with the Dauntless that was crushed all too soon by the realization that their creed had been altered almost beyond recognition.

"Now tell me," I continue, my brief interruption of reality ending all too quickly as I realize once more exactly where I am. "What do you think learning strategy has to do with...," I pause to draw in a raspy breath. "Bravery?"

She pauses a moment on the ladder. "It...it prepares you to act. You learn strategy so you can use it." She quickly looks down at me. "Are you all right, Four?"

I stare back at her, gulping for air. "Are you _human_, Tris? It doesn't scare you at all?"

I see her gaze shift past me to the ground, and while I can see that she puzzles over my question, she genuinely doesn't look afraid when she notices how far of a fall it would be. But then, a strong gust whips her to the right, a small gasp escaping her as she tries desperately to cling to the rungs.

I ignore the situation I am in almost immediately, removing a hand from the bar it had been glued to and clamping it around her hip. I feel as one of my fingers brush the skin above her jeans but ignore it as I steady her on the ladder.

"You okay?" I ask after a moment of tense silence. My hand was already back on the rung, my finger burning against the cold steel.

"Yes," she says. She doesn't sound fine.

She resumes her climbing without another word, and we quickly reach the platform at the top of the ladder. She sits when we reach it, dangling her legs over the edge carelessly. I crouch in the middle, leaning my back against the metal support as I struggle to level out my breathing.

"You're afraid of heights," It is a statement. I guess it was fairly obvious by now, especially to her keen eyes. "How do you survive in the Dauntless compound?"

"I ignore my fear. When I make decisions, I pretend it doesn't exist," I say this slowly, breathing in and out of my mouth. She doesn't respond, so after a while I question her silent stare. "What?"

"Noting," she says quickly, looking away.

She scans the city below us, but soon scowls. "We're not high enough." She says finally. She stares up at the scaffolding. "I'm going to climb."

I feel the panic starting up again. "For God's sake, Stiff."

"You don't have to follow me," she doesn't look at me when she says this, still staring at the bars above her head and determining her route. She steps up on two bars and reaches for the another bar over her head.

"Yes, I do." I push myself up, ignoring the scene below the platform. I couldn't let Tris climb around even further from the ground by herself. I ignore the thoughts running through my mind. Thoughts of falling into the maze of bars below, wondering if I might be lucky enough to slam my head on a bar a good distance before I actually hit the ground, shortening my fall through hell.

I easily hoist myself up into the scaffolding beside Tris. I feel my entire body tense so hard it is painful. I follow her as she climbs further upward.

"See that?" Tris asks, having finally stopped. I stop climbing, peering over my shoulder and finding myself hovering over her. The height is not the only thing to blame for my fluttering breaths. She is pointing at the ground, and I ignore the impulse to close my eyes. And then I see it, the flashing light that shines intermittently through what must be the trees.

"Yeah," I reply, and I smile. I smile at the ground over a hundred feet below and feel a sudden burst of excitement in my gut. The excitement that I now come to associate with Tris. "It's coming from the park at the end of the pier. Figure. It's surrounded by open space, but the trees provide some camouflage. Obviously not enough."

"Okay," Tris turns slightly to look at me, the proud smile on her face freezing as she comes within inches of my own face. Her face flushed as she clears her throat. "Um, start climbing down. I'll follow you."

I nod, climbing down without a word. My mind is too full of her face to worry so much about the height. Though, in the back of my mind I can feel the anxiety threatening to bubble over. Climbing down was going to be so much harder than climbing up.

Suddenly, I hear a clang and the screech of my name. I look up to see Tris dangling, no bar within reach for her to stabilize herself on. I almost panic. I almost seize up at the thought of being so high up and watching on as Tris dangles precariously with nothing between her and the far away ground.

But I don't.

"Hold on!" I shout to her, quickening my pace down the structure. "Just hold on, I have an idea."

I move faster than possible. Faster than I am capable of. I hear her call my name once more as I start to descend the ladder, but I don't pause to look up at her. I nearly fall down the ladder, I move so quickly, convinced that no matter how fast I went it wouldn't be good enough to save her.

As I reach the ground, she is still there, clinging to the bars. Relieved, I hurry to the controls, not worrying about whether or not my plan will actually work. It has to work.

And it does. I switch on the controls and watch as the giant wheel creaks into life, turning at an excruciatingly slow pace. The dangling girl made her way to the ground, and I realized that she would have to jump off at the right time or risk getting crushed. I rushed forward to tell her, but she had already figured it out, tumbling down and out of the way.

I reach her, laying on the ground with her hands covering her face and I almost fall to my knees in relief. I partially give way to the feeling, slowly lowering myself to the ground next to her and wrapping my fingers around her tiny wrists and gently prying them away from her face.

"You all right?" I ask with quiet urgency, pressing her hands against my own. They are small and cold and delicate.

"Yeah," She says flatly. I can't help but laugh, and then she laughs, too.

Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she stares intently into my face, and I realize that we are once again in very close proximity of one another. Flustered, I stand and pull her along with me. The wheel still spins beside us, stirring the air and creating an breeze that rustles through Tris's hair.

"You could have told me that the Ferris wheel still worked," she accused teasingly, but I could tell she was still rattled. "We wouldn't have had to climb in the first place."

"I would have, if I had known," I admit, still reeling from her near demise. "Couldn't just let you hang there, so I took a risk. Come on, time to get their flag."

I hesitate a short moment, wanting nothing more than to let her sit and rest. But she was Dauntless, and the only hope for this team to win. She deserved to be the leader. I grab her gently by the elbow and steer her back towards the carousel, hoping to lend her any support that I could.

"Where'd the others go?" I ask as we reach the carousel. I can still feel the rush of adrenaline in me, much more intensified now that I didn't have the distraction of fear heights or watching Tris fall to her death weighing down on me.

Riley, a Dauntless girl who had been in my initiate class glared at me. "Did you guys turn on the wheel? What the hell were you thinking?" She continues ranting but I wave her off.

"The wheel doesn't matter. We know where they are."

"We?" Christina echoes, shifter her gaze from me to Tris at my side.

"Yes," I continue, calling her attention back to me. "While the rest of you were twiddling your thumbs, Tris climbed the Ferris wheel to look for the other team."

"What do we do now, then?" an initiate stifles a yawn as he asks. He is a Dauntless-born, one whose name I had learned before but quickly forgot.

I look at Tris, and the others eyes follow. I want her to make the decision. She has proven herself more capable of a leader than the others, who argued over the title while she actually set out to get things done of her own accord. For a moment I think she is about pass off the responsibility, but the she speaks.

"Split in half. Four of us go to the right side of the pier, three to the left." She says confidently. "The other team is in the park at the end of the pier, so the group of four will charge as the group of three sneaks behind the other team to get the flag."

Christina looks taken aback at the sudden declaration from Tris, but Riley quickly claps her hands and readies herself, the rest following suit.

Tris and Christina are joined by Riley and take the left of the pier. I lead the other three on the right. We travel quickly and silently to the pier, and I let a grin spread across my face, proud that she had come up with something so daring. No head on attack, no paintball guns blazing. It is a smart tactic.

My grin falters a fraction. It was an Erudite plan. More sophisticated than Will's plan, a boy who had been born to the Erudite faction.

I wait until I am certain that Tris's group is in position and I give the nod to charge. I surge forward, taking Eric's team by surprise and shooting three of them before they realize what is happening. The pier breaks out into yells of surprise and anger, and I notice that behind it all, Tris had made it to the flag. She would win us the game.

I feel a sharp pain in my side and hear the splat of paint. Spinning, I see Eric behind me, his gun lowering to his side.

"My team may have lost, but I still managed to get you," he grinned evilly and stalked away from me towards where most of his initiates now huddle in defeat. He doesn't waste any time, yelling at them about how they were miserable failures. I turn away in disgust, but not anger.

No, anger doesn't happen until I turn, expecting to see the triumphant look on Tris's face as she is lifted by her cheering team mates. Only, it isn't Tris that they are carrying. It is Christina, while Tris looks on with an expression of disbelief on her face. It doesn't last long, as she seems to make up her mind to join the others in their celebration. She grins as she watches them lift Christina over their heads, the flag clutched in her raised fist.

Walking up beside her, I swallow my anger and place a gentle hand on Tris's shoulder. If nobody else was going to give the right person all the credit, then I would.

"Well done."


	8. Stupid-Brave

**I started a new job, so it took a while to get this chapter done, but here it is! Special thanks to everyone who reviewed. You guys really make my day when you do, so keep them coming!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent or the short Free Four. That privilege goes to Veronica Ross.**

**Chapter Eight: Stupid-Brave  
**

The train ride home is full of boisterous, gloating winners or glaring, sulking losers. Tris and her friends sit in a corner, energetically talking about the game, with Christina still clutching the enemy flag. I notice briefly that the glares from Eric's team all seem to be directed at her and am thankful for the first time that it wasn't Tris who had grabbed it.

I don't pay much attention as their reminiscing grows louder. I sit on the floor of the train, leaning against the wall just behind the opening of the door. I close my eyes and try to clear my mind as the cool night air brushes past my face, taking my breath with it so that I have to spend a lot of my concentration focused on my breathing.

It doesn't work the way I want it to, and by the time the train pulls up to the Dauntless compound and we are all jumping off I realize that I have been thinking about Tris the whole time. How brave she had been when she decided to use the Ferris wheel as a vantage point. Her tactical savvy when she decided their plan of attack. Her selfless reaction to Christina grabbing the flag, even though she had deserved it.

It wasn't entirely a good thing that she displayed all three of these traits so readily, and I left the still celebrating or sulking group as I hurried my steps back to my apartment. Eric would never think twice about me not wanting to celebrate my team's win. He was too busy lamenting his own loss to notice.

The state of divergence is a dangerous thing to be in if you are in Dauntless. I learned that soon after my arrival, and as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I am beginning to feel more and more that Tris will have to learn it, too.

I don't sleep well, waking several times throughout the night to escape the dreams. Dreams of Amar lying lifeless on the train tracks. Sometimes, it would be Tris on the tracks.

–

I arrive at the training room and am relieved to find that Eric is not here yet. It had been set up the night before, the targets and knives for today's target practice. I vaguely hope that nobody will get on Eric's bad side today, which I know is probably a hopeless thought.

Eric arrives five minutes before the initiates and doesn't say a word to me, but I can feel the heated glares he sends me as though they are tempered daggers themselves. Perhaps if there is any good in his anger directed at me, it will keep it off of the others.

"Tomorrow will be the last day of stage one," Eric announces once all of the initiates are lined up before him. "You will resume fighting then. Today, you'll be learning how to aim. Everyone pick up three knives and pay attention while Four demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them."

His voice is low, a sign of him exhibiting his dominance as he plays off my demonstration as his orders and not just the fact that I am better than he is. Better at almost everything, in fact, though he would never admit it.

A split second passes as none of the initiates move before he barks at them once more, sending them scrambling.

I numbly throw three knives, exhaling as I let go, sending each one flying straight into the center of the target.

"Line up!" I hear Eric bark behind me and I retreat to the side of the room.

I look on as they begin practicing, many of them throwing and completely unable to stick the knife to the target, let alone hit it with the right end. Tris, however, isn't throwing, but mimicking my motions, all up to the point where she releases the knife. Eric paces behind them all, but pays no attention to Tris's actions. Of course, Peter does.

"I think the Stiff's taken too many hits to the head," the snide comment resounds around the room. "Hey, Stiff! Remember what a _knife_ is?"

Tris ignores his taunts and continues her practicing motions. Then, with her next movement, she releases. The knife flies directly at the target and the point hits just to the left of the center, but doesn't stick. She is the first person to actually hit the target correctly.

She smirks, turning her gaze to the boy who had jeered her. "Hey, Peter. Remember what a _target_ is?"

Christina snorts at Tris's side and sends her own knife flying, which sticks to the target on the right edge.

A half hour into the practice session, only Al has yet to hit the target. His flailing knives seem to clatter with an insane amount of noise against the wall behind the targets and to the floor below them. I watch as he tries again, thinking of a way to explain it to him that will help him, but Eric glides up behind him first.

"How slow _are _you, Candor? Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you?"

Al turns beet red and attempts another throw, missing completely and once more striking the wall.

"What was that, initiate?" Eric demands in a quiet tone, now glaring down at the boy over his massive shoulder. The tone of his voice was dangerous, and I rose to my feet to intercept.

"It-it slipped," Al almost whimpers.

"Well, I think you should go get it," Eric scans the room at the sudden quiet that has befallen the initiates, who have stopped throwing. "Did I tell you to stop?"

The thudding of knives against the targets resume, but the movements are awkward. Nervous. I hesitate to intervene, knowing that it would probably end up much worse than the threat of a possible stabbing.

"Go get it?" Al's eyes are bugging out of their sockets. "But everyone's still throwing."

"And?"

"And I don't want to get hit."

"I think you can trust your fellow initiates to aim better than you," Eric's voice is overflowing with poison as he grins slightly. "Go get your knife."

I cringe mentally as I watch the inner workings of Al's decision making process flit across his face. He is smart, he knows that disobeying Eric is useless. But he is also Candor, and they have traits that have proven quite hard to over ride during the early stages of initiation. They are determined and stubborn and sure of themselves in a way only someone with nothing to hide can be. They are also often a sort of stupid-brave that ultimately serves no beneficial purpose.

"No," Al states, staring directly at Eric. Stupid-brave.

Eric's eyes darken as he stares blankly at Al's face. "Why not? Are you afraid?"

"Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife?" Al looks back, gaining momentum now that he has already started refusing Eric. "Yes, I am!"

I feel a sharp pain in my lower lip as I realize one of my teeth has punctured it. Eric could have easily overlooked his disobedience if Al had simply lied and stated that he wasn't afraid. Dauntless were not supposed to acknowledge fear. Fear, though it may never cease to exist, was a private phenomenon.

"Everyone stop!" Eric shouts.

The slow progression of knife throwing that had been going on between nervous glances towards Eric and Al ceased immediately.

"Clear out of the ring." Eric states fluidly, his beady eyes still on Al. "All except you."

A knife thuds to the ground, having dropped from Tris's hand as she followed Christina out of the ring. She appears nervous, much like the other candidates do. Nervous and frightened and concerned for her friend. I look away from her face, not wanting to see that look any longer.

"Stand in front of the target," Eric instructs Al in his level voice.

Al complies, silently making his way to stand before the target he had failed to strike so many times.

"Hey, Four." Eric looks over his shoulder to me, and I quickly freeze my face into one of boredom and nonchalance. "Give me a hand here, huh?"

I lift the knife in my hand to my face, scratching one of my eyebrows with the point. Pushing away from the wall, I approach Eric without saying a word.

"You're going to stand there as he throws those knives," Eric addresses Al, "Until you learn not to flinch."

"Is this really necessary?" I try to sound bored. Tired. I don't want to throw knives at one of the initiates. I don't want to play into Eric's cruel games. I know that he will not like the seemingly innocent question. He will see it for what it truly is: a challenge.

A few silent, tense moments go by before he is able to respond, more quiet than before.

"I have the authority here, remember? Here, and everywhere else."

His words, though I should have expected them, send white hot anger rushing through me. I can feel my cheeks flush as I almost have to physically stop myself from responding. I almost fail. I almost point out to Eric in front of all the transfers that he only has power because I handed it off to him, and it would only take one conversation with Max to change all of that. But I don't have the chance.

"_Stop_ it."

My gaze snaps to the tiny girl who had spoken, my anger traveling with it. If anything, her voice had only made things worse. She shouldn't be speaking now. Not when Eric was here and threatening not only her friend but an actual Dauntless member as well.

"Any idiot can stand in front of a target," she continues, despite the look I am giving her. "It doesn't prove anything except that you're bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of _cowardice_."

Underneath my anger, I notice something else swelling within my chest. Pride? Reverence? This girl would stand tall and confront a bully when a whole room full of so called Dauntless would not. When a whole faction full would not.

"Then it should be easy for you, if you're willing to take his place," Eric says smoothly, betraying no hint as to what he is thinking.

I contemplate for a moment finally putting my foot down, not allowing Eric's sadistic games to continue. But I can't. I can't feel this way, not for her. And yet I do. So if I cannot stop the way that I feel, the least I can do is try to make sure she understands what she has to live through while she is here.

"There goes your pretty face," Peter starts a taunt, but I ignore him.

I watch as she walks towards Al to take his place. The large boy simply nods at her as he scurries away towards his peers. I try to hide my disgust. At the very least, Tris is a much smaller target.

I catch Tris's eyes as she juts out her chin, radiating that old Abnegation stubbornness that I knew so well as a child. She is a brave Dauntless girl now, but it is her Abnegation background that makes her strong.

Eric stands several feet to my left, and while he watches me there is nothing I can say to Tris that will comfort her. Instead, I play off her stubbornness.

"If you flinch, Al takes your place. Understand?"

She nods once. I inhale and pull my right arm back. Eric knows how well I can throw, so I can't do poorly on purpose. I have to get this right. One mistake and I could harm her pretty face, just like Peter had said.

He had been sarcastic, but he was right. She wasn't pretty. She was far more than that. Her bright eyes conveyed more than just beauty, but intelligence and bravery and every other admirable trait imaginable.

I exhale and throw the knife. It sticks close to her right cheek. She hadn't flinched, though her eyes had closed.

"You about done, Sitff?"

"No."

"Eyes open, then." I tap the skin between my eyebrows to draw her attention there. I feel calm with her eyes on me. I inhale as I pass the second knife to my right and exhale as I send this one flying into the target centimeters above her head.

Eric had inched closer and I barely register his appraising "hmm..." He is waiting for me to make a mistake, to throw too far away from her. To hit her and betray myself by being concerned.

"Come on, Stiff. Let someone else stand there and take it." I say this to rile her on. It works.

"Shut up, Four!"

I bite my lip to keep from letting my own frustrations known. Eric has inched even closer now, watching me as I prepared to throw my last knife. I know how this last one has to go.

I inhale quickly and with a sharp exhale I send the last knife flying before I can over think it. I see her stiffen, but not flinch, as the knife sticks to the target with a thud. After a moment, I see the small trickle of blood flow down her jaw line. I had nicked her ear.

The look on her face makes it clear that she knows exactly what had happened. She understands well that I had hit her on purpose. The indignation that is also present, however, means that she has not worked out the rest.

"I would love to stay and see if the rest of you are as daring as she is, but I think that's enough for today." Eric says smoothly, seemingly not upset about Tris's brave display and the lack of blood. He turns to me and mutters quietly, "Well, that should scare them, huh?"

As he turns to leave, he pauses next to Tris and squeezes her shoulder. He smiles at her, but it is a fake. His expression mimics that of Tris when she is analyzing something.

"I should keep my eye on you." Eric removes his hand from her should and walks out of the training room, just in time for me to keep my cool.

The room is now empty of anyone but Tris and myself. I start towards her, staring at the blood now running down her neck.

"Is your-" I begin to reach idly towards her ear but I don't get very far.

"You did that on _purpose!"_ She glares at me.

"Yes, I did," I reply quietly. "And you should thank me for helping you." I stare down at her and consider telling her about Eric and his vendetta against me. I want to tell her about how I understand what it is that gives her strength. But she doesn't give me the chance.

"_Thank _you? You almost stabbed my ear, and you spent the entire time taunting me. Why should I thank you?"

I scowl at her complete lack of comprehension, returning her glare. "You know, I'm getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on!"

"Catch on? Catch on to what? That you wanted to prove to Eric how tough you are? That you're sadistic, just like he is?"

I feel sick, my insides rearranging themselves at her accusation. "I am not sadistic." I say this quietly. Controlled. I lean my face in close to hers until there are only a few inches between us, my chest suddenly feeling like it is about to burst. "If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I would have already?"

I feel my scowl deepen as I look into her eyes, so close to mine now. They are angry, looking at me as though I were just another clone of Max. Another Eric.

I threw the knives at her to protect her, screwing up any kind of positive emotion she could ever feel for me.

I whip around, stalking towards the exit. Before heading through the door, I slam the knife in my hands into the table. I round the corner and my momentum fails and I lean against the wall, sliding into a crouch. I hear her frustrated scream.

Not even two weeks ago, I had a plan. I was going to leave, be factionless. But then she came. She changed everything. And now she hates me. She hates me and I can't leave because Eric's eye is on her. Like his eye was on Amar last year, right before he turned up dead on the pavement near the railroad tracks. Amar, who had been Divergent.

Now Eric was watching Tris, which meant that my suspicions had been right. Tris was Divergent, just like me.

I hold my head between my hands. I can't leave. Not just because she is Divergent. Because I like her too much. I can admit it this one time.

Just this once.


	9. Final Fight

**Sorry about the extended absence! Christmas rush at work was insane, and I am so glad that it is finally over!**

**Anyways, thank you to everyone who has reviewed and added this story to your favorites or follows! It truly makes my day~  
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**Special thanks to AnimeWeaponFan! This chapter was half done and sitting in limbo when I received your review, and I made sure to finish it right after I got home from work. I will definitely listen to that song before my next post and yes, I have seen Toradora! I absolutely love it!  
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**(P.S. I am a slight Otaku. I love all story mediums :3)  
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**Disclaimer: I bought the books Divergent and Insurgent by Veronica Roth, but that is the extent to which I have anything to do with the publications.  
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**Chapter Nine - Final Fight  
**

I wake the next morning with the same sick, anxious feeling that I had two years ago for this same occasion. I almost can't bring myself to get out from under the covers, before I remember that there is no reason for Marcus to come now.

It is the day before visiting day. Phase one of the initiation is almost over and tomorrow, before the initiates learn who will be sent away from the compound after the first round of cuts, all of them will get the chance to see their families one last time. Those who continue on as part of Dauntless would be discouraged from ever seeing their family again. Those who were cut would be too ashamed.

It is a double edged sword here, allowing the young initiates to see their family. They will be overwhelmed after the harsh fighting and combat training. They will be in tears when they spot their families in the halls of the Pit, friendly faces after everything that they have faced so far. It isn't fair, that they don't know how we use their reaction as a part of their initiation.

Faction before blood.

Those who appear far too attached to their family are placed at the bottom of this hidden initiation phase. It doesn't account for much of their overall score, but it still counts. The Dauntless-born are also held accountable, though not as much. Those who keep their distances are given a high score, showing that they acknowledge the fact that they could still be cut and shouldn't give themselves or their family the lingering pain that would come if they were too close and ripped apart.

On this day, two years ago, I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep or concentrate or even speak. I was far to afraid that Marcus would use Visitors Day to come for me one last time. To humiliate me before my new faction. But he didn't. And the year after that, when there were no Abnegation transfers, he had no way to threaten me.

This time, however, there was Tris. As comforting as she might be in some ways, as a reminder of the positive things from my previous life, she was still a threat in others. What if her transferring here had stirred up old, vengeful feelings held within Marcus? What if he used her as an excuse to finally come after me?

At a quarter to eight, I finally drag myself to my feet and get dressed, forcing all the unwanted fears into the back of my mind. One thing about being Dauntless, you learn well how to deal with your insecurities. The things that might have once incapacitated me now spur me into motion, knowing that action will help me to ignore my thoughts.

I step into the training room, relief filling me as I realize this will be the last time this year. The last time I will have to watch any of these initiates fight one another.

A few of them were already in the room, including Christina, Al and Will. I panic a little though, when I realize that Tris is not with them. Along with the marked absence of Peter and his crew.

I almost leave the room to hunt her down when she strolls through the doors, looking more determined than ever. I can tell that something must have happened to her, but she doesn't look harmed, so I try my best to ignore it as she shoots heated glares between Peter's group as they enter and the empty space on the chalk board next to her name.

I block out the conversation she has with her friends, taking her subtle hints about what mood she is in and hoping that I can help her in some way. I had already planned out the fight between Edward and Peter, and there was no way that I would ever match such a monster against her anyways. She has come a long way, but not quite that far. Instead, I try to do the next best thing and hope that she will be satisfied as I quickly scrawl Molly's name on the board next to hers.

As the matches start, I almost feel guilty about making a girl like Myra fight. She will be cut, there is no doubt about that. If there is any pity to be had upon her, it is in having her face off against Will, a boy who is extremely sure of himself and knows how to let others down gently. If it weren't for the brutality of both Peter and Edward, I would bet money on Will coming in first place at the end of initiation.

I stifle a yawn as I watch this fight, knowing that Will is purposely making Myra look better than she is. He swipes his leg low at her knees and gracefully recovers from the miss. Too graceful for if it had been a true miss. Eventually he can no longer keep up the charade and knocks her out with a single blow. The delighted smirk on Eric's face sends my stomach into knots as he watches the poor girl curl on the floor, quickly attended to by Edward.

Christina and Al are next. If there is a single hope for Myra to continue on here past the first wave of cuts, it is Al. He hasn't won any fights since the first time he went up against Will. He goes down quickly and Eric merely shakes his head this time, visibly disgusted by the obvious falls Al has been taking all this time. But he says nothing, and I sigh in relief.

As the next fight starts – Edward against Peter – I have to fight the evil grin that threatens to split my face in half. Peter, with all his skill and vicious tendencies, was no match for Edward. The boy, in what few words he and I have ever shared, explained to me that he has been studying combat for nearly six years. It was a true fight, one that had Eric almost salivating, but it ended the way I knew it would.

My vengeance now done, I feel my abdomen knot once more as Tris walks into the center of the ring, her eyes trained carefully on her opponent. Her face is careful. Neutral.

Molly smirks. "Was that a birthmark I saw on your left butt cheek?"

I almost choke on the air. I stiffen my face and lean against the wall, balancing on the heels of my feet to try and look nonchalant in case Eric decided to steal a look at me. If he did, I didn't notice. I was watching as Peter and Drew smirked and cackled at Molly's jibe.

"God, you're pale, Stiff." Molly lunges forward with a punch, but Tris evades it and slams her own into the cocksure girl's abdomen. The smirk disappears with a grunt of pain.

Molly makes another attempt, looking as if she intends to tackle Tris to the ground. I remember seeing her on the floor, back when Eric had made her fight Peter, and I panic slightly on the inside. But Tris darts out of the way and I force myself to relax.

I notice Eric out of the corner of my eye, his interest perked as he watched the small girl block a solid punch with her forearm, eliciting a strangled cry of fury from her adversary. He didn't look amused or angry or anything, really. He looked the way Tris did when she was analyzing what was before her.

I tore my eyes away from Eric, who was unsettling me more than watching Tris fight. A small amount of pride erupted within me as I watched Tris shove her elbow up into Molly's face, barely missing the mark.

Tris is struck for the first time this fight, in the ribs, and she jumps back to regain her breath. Her eyes search Molly for a flaw, and I realize what it is she needs to find. Molly holds her arms too high to better protect her face, leaving her abdomen far too exposed.

I watch Tris surge forward and slam her fist into the larger girl's stomach. She follows it with a sweep kick that sends Molly sprawling onto her back. Her face, for a moment, looks prideful and elated. It quickly contorts into anger. Raw anger that has me tasting bile in the back of my throat as I watch her assess the girl at her feet.

And then Tris pulls back her foot and smashes it into the side of the fallen girl, who curls on the ground to protect herself. I watch as she is kicked in the stomach. In the face. In the chest. Blood smeared on the floor as she continued to try and ward off the attacks.

As I watch this, I am reminded of what Peter had done to Tris. And I remember what Marcus had done to me, and how I had wished to make him feel the way I did. It was an evil wish. Hateful. I couldn't let Tris revel in this madness.

I catch her as she pulls back her foot for another kick, pulling her backwards and away from the cowering girl. I turn her to face me, her eyes unfocused as she pulls in ragged breaths through her clenched teeth.

A gurgling noise sounds in Molly's throat, calling Tris's attention back to her. She almost seemed mesmerized by the sight before her.

"You won," I quietly tell her. "Stop."

Her eyes finally focus on mine as she wipes the sweat from her forehead. She looks a little taken aback by what she must see on my face, but she doesn't seem quite composed enough yet.

"I think you should leave," I enunciate slowly. "Take a walk."

She shakes her head, looking down at the part of the floor not containing a girl still writing in agony. "I'm fine," She says. "I'm fine now."

She walks away from me now, over to where Christina, Al and Will stand. They look only the slightest bit unnerved by what had just happened, though it seems more that they are more just shocked by how well Tris did in her fight. They quickly congratulate her, patting her on the back and erupting into talks of tattoos and food.

I dismiss the initiates and recommend that Peter and Drew, who have long since lost their cocky attitudes, take their friend to the nurse. Tris avoids my gaze as she drifts out the door behind Christina.

Eric doesn't give me the time to think more on what had driven Tris to fight so viciously against Molly. What she had meant about a birthmark on her butt cheek...

"Well, that was interesting..." Eric said from behind me, and I turned to see a grin stretching across his face. A grin that seemed more gloating that amused.

"Probably lucky that the fights are over." I respond without any emotion in my voice. "We might have run out of initiates to send to the factionless."

Eric chuckled at my dark joke, but this time it almost seemed friendly. Even his eyes lit up with laughter. His mood swings and unpredictable reactions were more disconcerting than if he were just always a demented sociopath.

"They do seem pretty intent on destroying one another this time around, huh?" He slapped me on the back and walked towards the door. I was just about to follow him when he turned, his face once more a mask of ice that stalled me in my tracks.

"And about the Stiff," he says slowly, scrutinizing my reaction. "She didn't seem so Stiff today, did she? Perhaps she is taking to the Dauntless lifestyle even better than you did?" He scoffs loudly and continues out the door.

I don't move yet. He had just openly hinted at his suspicions to me. Blatantly shoved under my nose that he was privy to information that endangered Tris.

That endangered me.


	10. Visiting Day

**New rules: Every Friday will be my posting day. That being said, this is my second post today (kinda, it is past midnight). So, there will be a chapter 11 next Friday, which is good timing because I am going to be spending this week working, drinking and squeezing writing in there somewhere.**

**Thank you guys so much for the reviews. Keep them coming!  
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**AnimeWeaponLover - I listened to the song you recommended and really liked it. I would love to try writing some stories inspired by music :3  
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**Disclaimer: I own literally nothing that has to do with published work. How sad :(  
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**Chapter Ten: Visiting Day**

I don't sleep at all the night before Visiting Day. Tris's fight, Eric's insinuation and my continued irrational fear about Marcus took turns working my brain into overdrive. I feel as though I had been downing cup after cup of coffee all night long, my eyes wide and my nerves shot, though I still feel heavy and somewhat dazed from the lack of sleep.

I pace the length of my room until nine in the morning, when I can no longer stand to be alone in the tiny apartment. I make my way to the pit, hoping that perhaps I can dispel one of my problems by proving to myself that Marcus would never deign to enter the Dauntless compound.

The giant underground cavity was filled with smiling faces and laughter. Though Visiting Day was only truly important to the initiates, most of Dauntless used this as a day to get together with their families as well.

It had been disconcerting my first Visiting Day, when I had stood in the Pit alone, watching a mother with five piercings on her face hug an initiate girl with a shaved head. A father with hair to his shoulders gleefully clap the back of a boy with a chain connecting the piercings in his nose and left ear. These people looked so foreign and bizarre, but acted more like a family than any I had ever seen in Abnegation.

Today, as I weaved through the crowds, I picked the transfers out of the crowd quite easily. I noticed Peter first, surprisingly. He was standing with what must be his parents, neither of whom resembled their son. His mother looked curious, but kind. His father had a loud, intrusive laugh. I snorted in disgust, wondering how they could seem so innocent when they had brought such a thing as Peter into this world.

Standing against the wall near Peter were Drew and Molly, both of whom looked resigned. They were alone and downcast, though I was almost grateful that Molly's family had not come. Her nose was broken and he face swollen so that she was hardly even recognizable. Somehow, even after knowing she was such a nasty child, I wouldn't want her to have to go through the shame of her family seeing her in such a sorry state.

I move on, noticing Will standing with a girl perhaps my age or a bit older, wearing an Erudite blue dress. She must be his sister, given their striking resemblance.

Next to him was Christina, bouncing around animatedly between who I assume are her Mother and younger sister. Her voice carries louder than it normally does I notice, and somehow that seems to help distract my mind from its constant whirring. I find myself wondering how such a strong, honest and self-reliant girl had come from the same faction as Peter.

I think again about the differences within factions. The differences between Christina and Peter. Between the Edward, who was stoic but not cruel, and Will, who was bright and optimistic and personable. I ponder the differences between Tris and myself.

I glance around, not spotting a single bit of gray fabric, and meander over to the railing that overlooks the chasm. I use the sound of falling water as white noise to help my mind empty itself of every remaining though.

I can't have been standing there very long before I hear a nostalgic noise drifting over the roar of the chasm. A soft and practiced laugh, one that would never be mistaken for malicious or teasing, only joyful and happy.

When I turn, I feel my eyes bug in surprise. I had not expected for Tris's family to come. Abnegation aren't exactly comfortable in such a boisterous compound such as this one. I consider for a moment ignoring them and walking away before the woman could figure me out, but I can't. It would be rude of me to give the cold shoulder to Tris and her mother.

"Hello. Me name is Natalie," the woman says, offering me her hand as she approaches. I remember seeing her before as a child, noting how she had always seemed kind and gentle to everyone around her. "I'm Beatrice's mother."

I take her hand awkwardly, wondering briefly at how she seemed more sure about her hand shake than I. "Four," I say as I retract my hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Tris stares at me from beside her mother, her pretty blond hair tied into a snug bun. She wore tight jeans and a black shirt that showed off the tattoos on her collarbone. It seemed that with everything she did, she couldn't help but display her contradictions.

"Four," Natalie looks at me for a moment, like she is trying to place something in her memory. "Is that a nickname?"

"Yes." I change the subject before she can ask me anymore questions. "Your daughter is doing well here. I've been overseeing her training."

Beside her mother, I notice Tris repress a snort at my words. I cock my eyebrow slightly at her, but she doesn't notice my questioning gaze. I wasn't lying to be kind. Tris, looking at it objectively, has made the most noticable progress out of everyone. Edward might be a great fighter, but he has six yers of training behind him. On the other end, Al could be a decent fighter, but he purposely holds himself back. And unlike Myra, Tris has actually beat someone in the ring.

"That's good to hear," Natalie, despite her words, doesn't look quite relieved. "I know a few things about Dauntless initiation, and I was worried about her."

I turn my attention to Tris, studying her face as it is now. She isn't so timid anymore. She stands tall with her shin held high, her slightly uneven lips pursed. A life in Abnegation teaches you to forgo beauty, that superficiality is wrong, and yet she couldn't be more beautiful if she had been born into any of the other factions where girls paint their faces to enhance their looks. Her features are striking and the way in which she presented herself left you in awe, even if she was so short.

She was amazing.

Natalie tilted her head slightly, calling my attention back to her. "You look familiar for some reason, Four."

I blanch, my features instantly freezing into neutrality. "I can't imagine why," my voice sounds cold even to me, but I can't help it. "I don't make a habit of associating with the Abnegation."

The woman laughs once more, that laugh that could never sound mocking or unpleasant. "Few people do, these days. I don't take it personally."

My shoulders relax and I instantly feel sorry for the way that I spoke to her. She wouldn't recognize me. I had not seen this woman personally since my mother's funeral, and the only ones who knew the faction I had transferred to were the government officials in Abnegation and the families of the initiates from my year. After I left, I doubt any of them returned home with the intention of spreading the gossip.

"Well, I'll leave you to your reunion." I bow slightly to excuse myself before I even considered it. An Abnegation action. I stalk away before either of them seem to notice what I did.

Not wanting to return to my apartment just yet, I climb the path until I reach a nearly empty level and sit, my legs dangling over the ledge. From my vantage point, I can see the entirety of the Pit. I quickly pick out the gray clothed woman and her blond daughter. They had walked over to join Will and Christina, and for a moment I wondered how Will's sister was taking to the Abnegation woman. When Natalie hastily led her daughter away from the crowd, I knew it hadn't gone well.

Curiosity prickled in the back of my mind as I watched Natalie expertly weave through the crowd and pull Tris down an insignificant hallway that lead toward a relatively unused portion of the Dauntless compound.

I wait anxiously for a few minutes, waiting for Tris and her mother to reappear. Soon, I watch as Natalie steps back into the Pit, making a beeline straight for the path that will lead her out of the compound. Alone.

As she climbs, she notices me sitting on the ledge and nods once, giving me a small smile which I return. I continue to watch as she climbs quickly, undeterred by the height or lack of railings.

The rest of the day passes by quickly, most of which I spent on the ledge overlooking the Pit or talking to Zeke. At dinner I make my way to the dining room with him and sit at his table, joined by his brother Uriah and his friends

"So, how are the rankings looking?" Marlene, who was sitting next to Uriah and opposite me, leaned across the table and stared at me expectantly.

"Come on Mar, you know he can't talk to us about that," Uriah popped a piece of bread in his mouth and began buttering another slice.

Marlene put on a show of pouting. "Please? I mean, I know I didn't come in first place, but I would be mortified if a majority of the transfers beat me, too."

"Transfers and Dauntless-born aren't combined in the rankings until the second phase," Zeke said. "Shouldn't you be bugging Lauren for information about how you are doing?"

I eat very little and dismiss myself early from dinner, having the obligation to explain the rankings to the transfers. To explain who would be cast out of their chosen faction because we were too prideful to associate with anyone lesser than ourselves.

I enter the dorm and am happy to find that none of the are back from dinner yet. I quickly tally up the scores of each initiate and write them on the board in order. It pains me to write Peter's name in second place and Molly in fifth, but seeing Tris at number six makes my heart swell. She has done well enough that there is virtually no chance for her to get cut this time around, unless not a single Dauntless-born was cut. After listening to Lauren, I don't expect that to be the case.

As the initiates start to pile into the room, I begin to explain to them how the rankings work. How they earned points and lost them, and how the second stage will be weighed more heavily than the first.

My gaze lands on Tris, who moves restlessly from one foot to the other. Her eyes catch mine for a brief moment before they dart away. I force my attention to the initiates once more.

"We will announce the cuts tomorrow," I look over the group at this solemn announcement. "The fact that you are transfers and the Dauntless-born initiates are not will not be taken into consideration." I try to reassure them that the Dauntless-born are no safer than they are, but none of them seem to buy it.

I grab the board and hang it on the hook, stepping back out of their line of view.

Edward

Peter

Will

Christina

Molly

Tris

Drew

Al

Myra

The room is silent as the rankings sink in, but it doesn't take long for the objections to start.

"What!" Molly's ugly voice shrieks as she points at Christina. "I beat her! I beat her in_ minutes_, and she is ranked _above_ me?"

Christina wears a smug smile as she crosses her arms. "Yeah. And?"

I sigh heavily and glare at Molly. "If you intend to secure yourself a high rank, I suggest you don't make a habit of losing to low-ranked opponents." I shove the chalk in my pocket and stalk out of the room, not looking at Tris as I pass. I know how it sounded, but I thought it was necessary to remind Tris of how close she had come. About how much she has improved.

I glide into the hallway and glower at the floor as I hurry away from the dorm. Why is it that the only way I can help Tris is by acting like a jerk?

I wake to a loud pounding on my door, the urgent noise distracting me from looking at the clock next to my bed to check the time.

Opening the door, I find Lauren standing before me, her eyes wide and panicked, wearing pajamas consisting of a pink tank top and short shorts. Before I could comment, Lauren grabbed my arm and tugged me out of my room.

"There is trouble in the dorms," Lauren continues to drag me and I barely manage to shut the door to my apartment. "Your transfers are going nuts."

I hasten my pace when she mentions the transfers. The way she looks at me assures me that this is something incredibly serious and I worry for Tris.

We reach the dorm in less than five minutes, finding many of the initiates standing outside. All of them looking shocked and unsettled. Christina looks up at me and points dazedly at the door to the room and I rush inside.

The fluorescent lights make the scene appear much more gruesome than it is, though nothing about it is exactly pretty. The first thing I noticed was Tris, kneeling on the floor with Edward's head in her lap. Her hands are bloody and I feel my throat begin to close, until I noticed that the blood was coming from the boy she was holding.

Protruding from Edward's eye is the handle of a silver knife, identical to the ones used in the dining hall.

I feel the nurse push past me and step back into the hall before Tris sees me, not sure how I can help her right now. In the hall, I notice that Peter and Drew are the only two missing, and decide that if I can't help out here, the best thing for me to do would be to find the prime suspects.

I search the compound for an hour, but I abandon my hunt when my nerves calm and I can think again. I know that if I find them, nothing will happen. The Dauntless leaders will never punish the boys for disposing of their competition. It was considered an act of the modern Dauntless.

At eight in the morning, I return to my apartment. I had spent the rest of the night sitting near the chasm, dangling my legs over the ledge through the railings. Lauren had found me there half an hour ago and told me that two of her initiates and two of mine had been cut.

Edward and Myra had left on their own.


End file.
